


Feline Fine (male reader version)

by CloverHighFive



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Deals, FBI Agent Sam Winchester, Fluff, Investigations, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Saving People Hunting Things, Vampires, Witches, panther
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 21:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16250546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverHighFive/pseuds/CloverHighFive
Summary: Dean has gone missing. While Sam and [Y/N] are trying to figure out what’s happened, a panther turns up on the bunker’s doorstep. Meanwhile, bodies are turning up a few towns over. There seems to be all sorts of various villains working together (or not?). What the hell is going on?





	Feline Fine (male reader version)

**Author's Note:**

> I also have this same story in female reader version, which contains a smut scene at the end - in case that'd be more your jam. Even so, the smut is optional (I've put a nice fancy border so you can stop before and still get a nice ending, if, say, you're more into female reader insert, but not that much into smut).

 

**1\. Missing**

[Y/N] woke up late in the morning to an empty bed. Dean had probably woken up early and had even made his side of the bed. “Awww,” [Y/N] thought to himself lovingly, “he’s so sweet.”

[Y/N] went through his morning routine, dressed up in jeans and a t-shirt, and headed to the kitchen.  
“Hey Sam, already deep in research?”  
Sam didn’t look up. “Yeah, I found a probable case a few towns over. I’m getting more info.”  
“Cool. It’ll be fun to kill something. I’m bored.”  
Sam darted a concerned gaze at [Y/N]. [Y/N] shrugged.

[Y/N] shuffled to the fridge, took out some stuff, shuffled to the toaster, waited for the toast, put some stuff on the toast, poured a cup of coffee, shuffled to the table, sat down like he weighted a ton and started chewing on his toast.  
Sam had looked at him the whole time, his expression unreadable.  
“What?” [Y/N] enquired.  
“Dean’s still sleeping? It’s pretty late. Is he OK?”  
“I dunno where Dean is. He was gone when I got up. You didn’t see him?”  
“No…” Sam looked annoyed. “Let’s call him.” He took his phone out and dialed.

[Y/N] slurped his coffee. “Don’t you think it’s a bit overdramatic to call him, like, right now? I mean, it’s just 10 a.m., he’s probably gone on a food run or something.”  
The phone rang and nobody picked up. It went to voicemail. Sam looked at [Y/N] and let out an annoyed sigh just before leaving a message. He hung up and looked at [Y/N]. “A food run? The fridge is full.”  
“I said: _Or something_. Come on. The guy is a freaking menace to just about anything that’s out there. He can handle a run in town.” [Y/N] smirked at Sam’s very annoyed frown.  
Sam went back to his computer, [Y/N] went back to his breakfast. They sat in silence between [Y/N]’s chewing and slurping sounds, and Sam’s typing on the laptop.

While [Y/N] was cleaning his dishes, he turned to Sam, “Hey, I’m gonna head to town as well, I need new boots. Do you need something?”  
“I need Dean to come back so we can head out for this case here. I have all the info we need.”  
[Y/N] rolled his eyes. “Alright. Well, I won’t be long anyway, so maybe Dean and I will be back at the same time or maybe I’ll even bump into him. I’m taking the motorcycle.”  
“OK. I’ll go for a little jog then. Since I have time.”  
“Be my guest.”

[Y/N] got out of the bunker on the bike, passed the Impala that was parked outside in front of the bunker’s door, and…  
Wait. What?  
The Impala is here, that means Dean is back!  
Sam got out of the bunker in jogging attire. “Hey, you’re still here?”  
[Y/N] gestured to the car. “The Impala’s here. You saw Dean inside?”  
“No…”  
[Y/N] drove by the hood, put his hand on to feel it. “The car is cold. It must have been here the whole time. And no other car is missing from the garage.”  
Sam’s gears were running. “Something’s off.”  
[Y/N] turned off the bike and took his helmet off. They looked around. No one. He got his hand on his gun and called out. “DEAN?!!” No answer. They looked around again. Listened. Nothing.  
“Call him again.”  
Sam reached for his phone, and, while looking down at it while dialing, something caught his eye on the ground. He reached down and picked up “The keys. They were…”  
Sam and [Y/N] looked at each other, panic rising in their eyes.  
The call went to voicemail.  
“Shit.”  
“Shit.”

Back in the bunker, Sam was trying to piece together what they knew, pacing about the room. “OK, so, when’s the last time you saw him?”  
“Um… Come to think of it… I don’t remember him coming to bed last night. And I slept right through. Wait. His side of the bed was made this morning… Maybe… Maybe he didn’t come in at all.”  
“Damn. So… That means, the last time you saw him is…?”  
“Last night, we were all here in the library, he went out to fetch something in the car, remember?”  
“Yeah, just as we were calling it a night.”  
“Exactly.”  
“You didn’t worry when he didn’t come back?”  
“Well our training in the afternoon was a bit challenging. So I pretty much passed out.”  
“Yeah… Me too. Went out like a light.”  
“I’m going to look for more clues outside.” [Y/N] headed out, followed by Sam, who tried Dean’s phone again – to voicemail.

The day would be busy and stressful. They’d found tracks outside that didn’t match any of the vehicles from the bunker nor the car from the pizza boy, but couldn’t deduct much from it, except the brand of tires and about 30 types of cars they could be on. They’d found footprints that didn’t match any of the footwear from the boys nor [Y/N], but all they could figure out was they were from 3 different people.

Sam had gone into town to ask around while [Y/N] waited at the bunker, checking whatnots on the laptop. Every call to Dean’s phone invariably went to voicemail. Nothing turned up in town, nothing turned up on the computer.

 

**2\. Finding**

Early the following afternoon, Sam came in from driving around the countryside. He called from the top of the stairs. “[Y/N]? YOU HERE?”  
[Y/N] called from the kitchen, “YEAH! HEEERE!”  
Sam called again. “COME HERE YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!”  
“IS IT DEAN?” [Y/N] called, as he ran to the stairs.  
“No,” Sam said, somewhere between anxious and surprised, while he climbed the stairs, “um… just… come out with me.” He opened the door, [Y/N] behind him. “Just… be calm, be careful, no sudden moves.”  
[Y/N] raised his eyebrows. “What?”  
Sam made an impatient gesture. “Just… Just… Trust me on this.” He opened the door to the outside.  
They stepped out and stood there, right by the door, transfixed.

A magnificent panther was lying lazily in front of the Impala. When it saw Sam and [Y/N] come out, it quickly sat up, curled its tail around itself and fixed its gaze upon them. It seemed it had stopped moving. It seemed it had stopped breathing.

[Y/N] spoke softly to Sam, as if he didn’t want the panther to hear. “Should we call the nature rangers or what’s their name…”  
Sam spoke the same way, trying to conceal his words. “Panthers are not endemic to Kansas, [Y/N].”  
“So…?”  
“So it’s not a wild animal. It’s either from a zoo or it’s someone’s pet.” They looked at the big cat in silence, who looked back at them, going from Sam, to [Y/N], and Sam. Sam added, “I don’t know… Look at it. It seems to be here for a reason… if that doesn’t sound too… weird.”  
Again, some mutual staring.  
[Y/N] whispered, “Did you notice the panther looking at me when I talk and then looking at you when you talk?”  
“Yes…”  
“It just did it again.”  
“Yes…”  
The panther took a deep breath, let it out, looked up, blinked, and fixed Sam and [Y/N] again.  
“Did it… sigh at us?” Sam remarked.  
The panther got up, paced in a circle, head low, throwing glances sideways at Sam and [Y/N], then resumed its sitting position. It let out another sigh.  
“It can sigh all it wants, I don’t know what to do with a panther. Maybe we should call a veterinarian,” [Y/N] suggested, “they’ll know what to do.”  
The panther growled.  
Sam and [Y/N] took a step back, but bumped into the wall behind them.  
The panther got up, walked deliberately, slowly towards Sam and [Y/N], its gaze going from one to the other. Stuck between surprise, curiosity and sheer panic, Sam and [Y/N] couldn’t move.  
About halfway, the panther stopped dead in its tracks, eyes wide. Sam and [Y/N] didn’t move. The panther closed its eyes, shook its head. Sam and [Y/N] looked at each other sideways, and, seeing they both had no clue what was going on, quickly turned their attention back to the panther.  
It was scratching the ground. It turned this way and that and seemed to have a purpose to its scratching. It took a minute or two.  
It then looked at Sam and [Y/N], looked to the ground, stepped back a bit, did it again, and retreated a few meters away. It layed down and looked back and forth between the scratchings and Sam and [Y/N].  
Sam was the first to catch on. “Um, I think we should go look at the scratches.”  
“What?”  
“Come on.”  
“What??” But [Y/N] followed.

 _I’m Dean, dumbasses._  
Sam’s first reaction was surprise, but one look at the panther and he made an annoyed frown and a sigh in no specific direction. He then looked at [Y/N].  
[Y/N], on the other hand, had his mouth open in disbelief. He turned to the panther. “You… what??”  
The panther looked at him and blinked. And it… purred? He turned to Sam. “Did you hear it purr?” He turned to the panther. “Are you purring?”  
Sam looked at the panther. “So you’re Dean.” The panther nodded.  
“OH FUCK IT NODDED.” [Y/N] screamed.  
Sam jumped. He took [Y/N] by the shoulders. “Calm down! It’s DEAN.”  
“But it nodded! The panther nodded!”  
“Yes, because _it’s Dean_.”  
“How can you be sure it’s Dean? Anybody could write ‘I’m Dean’. We just have to believe the cat?”  
Sam couldn’t believe he just heard someone say ‘We just have to believe the cat’.  
[Y/N] pressed on, talking too fast. “Well, a cat who knows how to write, sure, it’s weird, but we’re used to weird, so ok, I can get that, but then, the next logical thing – if we want to bother with logic – is we have to believe everything just because we accept that the cat maybe has a human inside?”  
The panther growled. Sam shot a look at it and came back to [Y/N]. “Do you think anyone but Dean could call us dumbasses while trying to get us to help him?”  
[Y/N] froze, thinking about what Sam said. He looked at the panther, who was lying down and looking calmly yet intensely at him. Then, suddenly, [Y/N] relaxed. Sam let go of his shoulders. The panther got up and walked towards him. He waited quietly. The panther sat right in front of him and looked up.  
“Dean… is it really you…”  
The cat made a soft nod, blinked, and purred. [Y/N] couldn’t help but run his hand in his fur on his head. He was so soft… Dean closed his eyes and pushed against [Y/N]’s hand so he’d continue, but he stopped. “Good lord. What happened?” Dean shook his head. He let out a sigh, looking in the distance. His face became angry and he growled at the horizon.

[Y/N] looked at him. The panther – Dean – was huge. Sitting straight, his head came almost chest high with [Y/N]. His fur was black, his eyes green, surprisingly close to the green of his own eyes. He licked his nose and his mouth, revealing impressive fangs. He cocked his head and waited. [Y/N] noticed the fur was matted on his neck. He approached a hand to check, but Dean, as a reflex, moved just out of reach. “You’re hurt…” Dean kept out of reach, looking at him sideways, flattening his ears. “Come on, let me look.” He slowly got closer. He bent down a little and, very gently, touched the fur where it was matted. “OK, it doesn’t look so bad. Come inside, we’ll take care of it.”

While [Y/N] was cleaning Dean’s wound, Sam was thinking out loud. “Of course, you can’t talk, but we really need to know what’s going on, cause… well, look at you.” Dean let out a huff. “Communicating with you is going to be a challenge.” Dean let out another huff.

“Alright, all clean.” [Y/N] announced, putting the wet cloth away. “I can’t do more than that. It’s not like I can put a band-aid on it or anything. So it’ll have to heal on its own. It’s not that bad, really.” Dean closed his eyes and rubbed his head against [Y/N], purring.  
[Y/N] got up and went to the fridge. “I don’t know about you, Sam, but I need a drink.”  
“I’m good, thanks.”  
Dean bounced his way to [Y/N], and leaned his weight against her. “Oh dear, you must be hungry.” Dean licked his mouth and looked up. “Alright, what do you want?” Dean cut in front of [Y/N] and stretched his panther body up on its hind legs. He surveyed the fridge and grabbed a few things – all meat. “Duh, of course,” [Y/N] said, laughing. He grabbed a beer.

 

**3\. Talking**

Sam tried to find a way to communicate with Dean. It was frustrating for both of them. Sam tried to come up with yes/no questions, but invariably diverged with more complex ones. Meanwhile, [Y/N] thought it was a bit funny, what with Dean having sat his panther self on a chair – like a cat would – opposite Sam at the table. Sam was actually having a conversation with a cat, or trying to, at least. Dean did the best he could to be as expressive as possible, but still, they weren’t words.  
“OK, we’ll go through the creatures. Yes or no.”  
Blink.  
“Was it a wendigo?”  
Stare.  
“Come on, we’ll be thorough, so we’ll know for sure.”  
Stare.  
“Dean… Wendigo?”  
Eyes to the skies, shake of the head. No.  
“Werewolf?”  
Stare. Intense.  
“Dean.”  
He opened his eyes wide, made a point of looking at himself, and looked back at Sam with the same wide eyes, shaking his head once. No. Idiot. I’m a fucking cat.  
“OK, I’ll go with the probably more obvious.”  
Eyeroll. Repositioning. Straight, solid, ready.  
“Witch?”  
Teeth bared – which was more frightening than what Dean thought was a smile. A vigorous nod. Yes!

Watching them, [Y/N] remembered the potion the boys had told him about when they were on a case where the only witness was a dog, allowing Dean to understand the dog. It seemed strange Sam didn’t think of it. Probably the stress. He asked Sam where their father’s journal was and went off.

“So you escaped!”  
Nod. Yes.  
“They didn’t actually let you go.”  
Shake. No.  
“Where had they taken you?”  
Nod. Yes.  
“Yes???”  
Eyes half closed, shoulders slumped. Idiot.  
“Oh. Yeah. Um.”  
Head turned to the side, sideways look. Yeah? And what now?  
Sam got up. “Lemme get a map.”  
Dean nodded and repositioned on the chair. Being a panther was not easy; that big four-legged body wasn’t made for chairs. Or, chairs weren’t made for big four-legged bodies. He hopped on the table and laid down.

[Y/N] came back to the table with 2 glasses filled halfway with a brownish red unappetizing liquid. He snipped some fur from Dean, who perked up. Dean smiled as he put fur in both glasses and stirred – he remembered the foul taste of the potion.

Sam came back with the map. He saw the glasses. “What’s this?”  
“Remember when Dean had to mind-meld with a dog for a case?” [Y/N] smiled a big, proud smile.  
Sam’s shoulders dropped. He made the most flat expression [Y/N] had ever seen. “I cannot believe I forgot that.”  
[Y/N] raised his glass. “Cheers!” They drank and said the incantation.  
Dean loved watching them wince and blergh at the taste. Pussies. He had just downed it like a man.

Dean purred, growled and looked bored until Sam and [Y/N] heard, “Sam likes to wax his legs. Sam has lady shampoo. Sam doesn’t watch porn cause he doesn’t understand the plot. Sam –“ “HEY!” Sam was not amused. [Y/N] was laughing. Dean brightened. “Oh, so the potion is working! Good.”

“So do tell us, Dean,” said [Y/N].  
“I got out of the bunker and got jumped by 3 witches, all women. Couldn’t see their face. They cast some spell on me and I woke up locked in a cage, with a panther in another cage next to me. The witches cut me and the panther for some blood and did some ritual. I woke up looking at myself in the other cage… I was into the panther. So that meant the panther was in me.”

Dean went on telling how the panther in its new body didn’t know what to make of it, and so it was thrashing about violently. Dean, on the other hand, sat still, watching his body being flung about, bruised and cut. He had listened to his voice screaming. He’d felt genuinely worried. But then the witches had come, cast a spell on Dean’s body and taken it elsewhere. They’d left Dean-in-panther alone.

The panther body being much more stronger than a man’s, Dean-in-panther had tried its strength to its full force in trying to pry the cage open – which had worked. And thus he’d escaped. It was dark but he saw he had been kept in a shack in the woods that didn’t seem to be connected to the road. He mostly kept to the forest as much as he could on his way to the bunker. He had a vague idea of where he had been taken, and so he pointed to it on the map.

He didn’t know what the witches’ plan was, but, while the ritual was being prepared, he had heard a name: Brandon Hatley.

Sam drummed his fingers on the table. Everyone was deep in thought. Dean licked his paw.  
[Y/N] looked at Dean, slightly surprised. “Um, I know you’re basically a cat, but… you feel the need to lick yourself?”  
Dean’s eyes widened and he stopped his move, with his tongue still out, halfway through a lick. He looked up at [Y/N], put his paw down, licked his nose and let out a low huff. He looked up at [Y/N]. “You don’t? Cause when I did the mind-meld with the dog, I was acting a lot like a dog.”  
Sam remembered. “It’s true. And yet… I don’t feel any feline urge.” “Me neither,” said [Y/N]. They turned to Dean. “Hey, don’t look at me, I don’t know.”  
Sam suggested, “Maybe because his mind is not a cat’s mind… maybe because there’s the two of us on the same spell, so it kind of dilutes it… maybe…” “Maybe we’re just not as receptive as Dean was,” said [Y/N]. He added, “Sam, do you feel like a beer? Pizza? Porn?” Sam was confused. “No. What? No…. What?” “Me neither,” [Y/N] said, “so that means we’re not mind-melding with Dean either.” Sam let out a sigh. “Thanks for that.”

 

**4\. Researching**

Sam got up, got the laptop and came back. “OK, Brandon Hatley…”  
While he was typing, [Y/N] pulled the map to his side of the table. “Hey, Sam, where was the case you found yesterday morning?”  
Sam crooked his neck and pointed to a town. [Y/N] and Dean looked down. “Uhn, it’s as far as where Dean was taken, but… right on the other side of us. Hmm… That’s weird.”  
Dean interjected. “What? What are you saying? What case?”  
[Y/N] just continued. “I don’t know… Seems too much of a coincidence, a case to work on in exactly the opposite direction, and about the same distance, the day Dean was taken. It’s too… clean. Too symmetrical.”  
“Huh, weird indeed,” said Sam. “As for the info I gathered, the deaths were sudden. There were no previous open cases in the area or deaths that fit the pattern.”  
Dean asked again. “What case?”  
[Y/N] looked at him. “Yeah, he didn’t tell me either. Things kind of happened fast.”  
Sam didn’t look up from the computer. “Something that looked like vampires. Sloppy ones. Or sloppy, just the one. We had yet to find out. OK. So now,  
Hatley –”

Without any warning, Dean jumped off the table and walked towards the staircase. [Y/N] and Sam gave a start. “Dean!” cried Sam, “What are you doing?”  
Dean stopped, turned around. “To go get the vampire! Come on!”  
[Y/N] objected. “Dean! We have to work your case. We’re not going off on a vampire hunt right now!”  
But Sam knew how Dean felt, from years of saving people. “No, [Y/N], he’s right. And if it’s a lone vampire, it’s a milk run. We’ll be in and out in a flash.”  
“Plus,” Dean said, “since I’m stuck in this cat for a while, I wanna try it out. It’s really strong. I hear really good. And I can see in the dark!” He sat and smiled.  
“Babe,” said [Y/N], “when you smile like that, you’re rather terrifying.”  
“Oh, come on!”  
“And,” he added, a slight panic in his voice, “what do you mean, ‘stuck in a cat for a while’? No, no, no! How can you talk about milk runs? We have to switch Dean back! What if he’s stuck in there forever?” He was really panicking now.

Sam and Dean looked at each other blankly. Dean got up and walked over to [Y/N], rubbing his head against his tummy. “Hey, sweetie, we’ll figure it out.” He looked up at him. “But we gotta save people, you know? I swear, it’s going to be real quick.”  
“But… the Hatley dude… we have a lead…”  
“Alright, alright,” said Sam. “Here, let me tell you what I’ve got on Hatley.” [Y/N] and Dean came back to the table.

“Hatley. Interesting. The man is the owner of about half the town where the vampire case is. He owns a lot of property and he is the chair of the local industry.”  
“So… he’s killing off competition?” asked [Y/N].  
“Doesn’t seem like it at all. For the real estate, I pulled some records: the tenant turnover is normal, no outstanding deaths – except the ones for the case – and everything seems normal tax-wise. The acquisitions were made at various times over 30 years, with more investments in the last 20. As for the local industry, there doesn’t seem to be anything fishy either.”  
“And you call that interesting,” said Dean, flatly.  
“Well, not the fact that nothing stands out –”  
“Except the deaths. Those stand out.”  
“Yeah, but it’s the guy the witches talked about, and it’s the town with the vampire deaths. That’s interesting. But I see no motive. So it might not be him behind this, or it might be something else the witches were talking about, not related to our problem.”  
Dean shook his head. “With us, it’s always related.”  
“Yeah.”  
[Y/N] was thinking out loud. “OK. It’s all related… 30 years, uhn?”  
“Yeah.”  
“So the man is, at bare minimum, 50.”  
“He’s 62.”  
“Hmm… What could a 62-year-old man with fortune and power in a quiet town want with witches? And,” he said, looking at the panther, “with Dean? And how does the vampire fit in?”  
Dean offered, “Maybe he pissed off the witches and they sent the vampire to piss him off.”  
Sam sat back in his chair. “Witches don’t do that. They’d curse him or something.”  
“Then I have no idea where the vampire comes in,” said [Y/N].  
“Me neither.”  
They looked at Dean. He shook his head – he had no idea either.  
Sam spoke up. “Well, at least we can take the opportunity to talk to Hatley while in town, so there’s that.”  
They all agreed.

It had been decided they’d go on the vampire case later, when it’ll be dark, as to not arise suspition driving around with a panther. They could at least wipe that fiend off while they figure things out. They ate, and, since they had a couple hours left before sundown, they turned in for a nap.

[Y/N] got in the bedroom, followed by a nonchalant Dean. [Y/N] sat on the bed, took his boots off. Dean hopped on the bed.  
“What are you… You’re not thinking of sleeping on the bed.”  
Dean cocked his head, looked around at the bed, then back at [Y/N].  
“Come on, you’re too big. And you’re going to get cat hair all over the sheets. You know how you hate that.”  
Dean squinted, and flopped down on the bed, his back to [Y/N]. He was taking up quite a bit of space indeed – and clearly made a point of taking up all the space he could.  
[Y/N] shook his head, got under the sheets fully dressed, tried to get comfortable.  
“Deaaaan… you’re really too big.”  
He heard jerky huffs. “Are you… laughing?”  
Dean lifted his head “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that…” He laughed again.  
“Idiot. Come on, scoot…”  
“Hey, don’t tell me you don’t want a piece of this fine feline ass…” He winked. “You know this tongue is rough, I could – “  
“Oh my god, Dean! No!” He slapped him – which couldn’t hurt him. “Scoot, idiot!” He pushed him – not that it made him move at all.  
Dean laughed and he obliged. [Y/N] tossed and turned a bit and, as soon as he quieted down, noticed the soft breathing from the panther next to him. He scooted over and put an arm around him, burrying his face in his fur. He fell asleep to the rhythm of Dean’s feline body taking the air in and out.

 

**5\. Hunting**

As the sun was setting, they took off in the Impala.  
[Y/N] was driving. “I can’t believe I’m driving.”  
“Haha! Enjoy! I can’t believe I’m in the back seat,” Sam said, not without sarcasm.  
“Ah, that’s what you get for being a giant,” said Dean.  
Sam shook his head, amused. “I can’t believe Dean managed to call shotgun.”  
“What, you’re surprised?” [Y/N] said, laughing, while Dean bared his fangs – again, in an attempt to smile. He was lounging comfortably, taking almost all the space left on the front seat.

En route, Sam explained how sloppy the vampire was – or the vampires were. “Look, all the deaths follow a simple pattern. It’s the first apartment from the lowest street number of all the apartment buildings Hatley owns. Then, apartment #2 from the next lowest address, and so on.”  
“What do you mean, and so on? How many deaths were there?” asked [Y/N].  
“Yesterday morning, there was 2. Now, there’s 4. Again, a pattern. So, tonight, we should be able to stop murders 5 and 6, hopefully.”  
“It’s really a milk run,” [Y/N] reflected.  
“From the reports, it seems like a vampire attack, but we’ll have to break into the morgue first to check and make sure.”  
“Yippee.”

When they got to their destination, they headed for the morgue. Dean agreed to stay in the car while Sam and [Y/N] went it to check on the corpses. They came back out 10 minutes later with answers. Yes, it was a vampire, and just the one. The teeth marks were all identical.

They headed to the next address on Sam’s list of Hatley-owned apartment buildings. [Y/N] first passed by slowly. Everything was quiet. He turned and parked the car. The three of them surveyed the place.  
“Which apartment is it?” [Y/N] asked.  
“If it follows the pattern, it’s #5.”  
He counted, pointing right to left and going up, “…#1, #2, #3, #4… #5 should be 3rd floor left, then.”  
“Right.”  
Three pairs of eyes fixed the dark patio door.  
“Yeah… Maybe we should go inside and wait for the vamp?”  
Sam grabbed the door handle. “Yep.”  
“Wait… What about Dean?”  
Dean put a paw on his door handle. “Oh, I’m coming.”  
Sam frowned. “I’m not sure if you should come, Dean.”  
“What?” said Dean. “You know I am stronger than you, I hear and see better than you. And…” Dean put a paw up and slowly revealed his claws. [Y/N]’s eyes widened. “Oh shit. Wow. That’s one hell of a good argument, too.”  
“Alright.” [Y/N] got out and Sam let Dean out.

Once they were in front of apartment #5, Sam put his ear to the door.  
[Y/N] whispered, “What are you listening for?”  
“If I can hear snoring or something.”  
“And?”  
Sam held his breath. After a moment, he let it out. “Nothing.”  
[Y/N] turned to Dean. “And?”  
Dean’s head snapped around and his ears perked up.  
Sam and [Y/N] looked around, but there was nothing to see – or hear. They looked at Dean enquiringly. Dean turned and got on the next stair landing in two bounds. [Y/N] let out a “Oh, shhhhhiii-” and both him and Sam followed.  
The next minute they heard the front door open and footsteps coming up.  
Dean had positioned himself in front of Sam and [Y/N]. Crouching on the floor, shoulder blades standing out, the tip of his tail wagging, he was observing below between the stairs.

The vampire could hear every heartbeat in the building. He could hear everyone breathing or snoring. But it was only when he’d got to the apartment door that he realized some heartbeats and breathing didn’t come from behind a door. The moment he’d whip his head around in exactly the trio’s direction, Dean rushed down the stairs and attacked.

The vampire was as much a predator as Dean. The surprise of being attacked by a panther didn’t phase it. It clawed, hit and bit Dean, trying to pin him down to finish him. Dean struck it with a swift blow with his claws out, ripping the vampire’s flesh on its chest. He clawed at its chest and face a few more times until it was gushing blood from every wound, then pinned it down and bent to rip its neck to finish it. [Y/N] screamed as he and Sam ran down : “NO! DON’T BITE!!”  
Dean turned to them, squinting, ears flipped back. “What?” The vampire was too damaged to have the strength to push Dean off. It was bleeding out. It still hit him feebly.  
[Y/N] said, as Sam got his machete ready, “Don’t bite him. He’s bit you and if you drink his blood, you’ll – “  
Dean’s eyes widened. He looked at the vampire and took a step back.  
Sam asked Dean, “Is it too damaged to talk?” Dean shook his head. “Yeah… I think I tore into it a little too much. Sorry.” Sam sighed. And he cut its head.

Behind a door, they heard a loud and panicked “OH MY GOD”. All three snapped their heads up, looked at each other and in the direction of either door.  
Sam nodded at [Y/N] and Dean. “I got this.” And, a bit louder, “It’s fine. We’re FBI. We were tracking the killer responsible for the murders of the last 2 days.” He gestured at [Y/N]. They took their badges out, showed them towards one door, then the other.  
“Is that a panther?” came from apartment #5.  
Sam sighed. His brow was furrowed. “Well, um, yes. It’s trained.” Dean sat with a thud and looked at Sam his eyes half-closed. Sam continued, “We’re a very specialized branch of FBI. New methods. The panther is not dangerous to you.”  
“Holy fuck! You cut that guy’s head off!!”, came from apartment #6. All three sighed.  
“Look, stay inside your apartments, we’re cleaning up and leaving. You’re safe now.”  
Two weak “OK” came from behind both doors.

Back in the car, they regrouped.  
[Y/N] started. “OK, so we have taken care of the vamp.”  
“Yup,” said Dean, “and it was awesome!”  
“And now we have to clean you, Dean,” he said, turning to him. He had his tongue half out, his paw stopped in mid-air. He darted a look at [Y/N]. “Dean, don’t lick that! The vampire blood!”  
“Fuck!” He put his paw down.  
“Look, [Y/N], I think it takes live blood. Dried-up blood won’t turn him.”  
[Y/N] turned to face Sam, his eyes merely slits. “You want to take the chance?”  
“Um, no.”  
He turned to Dean. “You?”  
Dean was looking down at his paws, turning them to inspect them better. “No, of course not.”  
[Y/N] declared, “Alright. Off to the motel.”

 

**6\. Longing**

The night, in fact, was still young – especially since they’d had a nap earlier. It was only 11:30. Sam had taken out his tablet while [Y/N] was in the bathroom with Dean.

Dean was in sitting the bathtub and [Y/N], kneeling on the floor, was using the shower head to drench his paws. They were both silent and calm, looking at the streaks of blood going to the drain.  
“Gimme your paw”, he said softly. He took it in his hand and sprayed water between his toes. He turned the paw, sprayed thoroughly every furry nook.  
“Get your claws out.” He was talking softly, like he was telling him what he’s going to do next. He cleaned his claws.  
“The other paw.” And they repeated the gestures.  
“Now, your face. Chin up.” Dean closed his eyes. Water running down his face, his neck. [Y/N] stroke Dean’s fur to make sure it got cleaned. Dean flinched. “Oh, the vampire bite. I’ll clean that too,” said [Y/N]. He gently ran some water on it.  
“What about your belly?”  
“I think it’s alright.” Dean sat up on his hind legs, balancing with a paw on the side of the tub. They both looked at his underside. [Y/N] ran his fingers through the fur. “No, you’re good. Let’s get you dried up then.”

Dean stepped out of the bathtub and [Y/N] dried his paws with a towel. He then dried his head, his neck. With the towel still around Dean’s shoulders, he stopped and looked in his eyes. “I know you’ve been a panther only a little over 2 days, and I know I can talk to you, but I miss you. Having half of you is… it’s weird. It’s worse than when we’re apart a few days. It’s like you’re here with me, but I can’t be _with_ you. It’s you, but it’s not.” He looked at Dean’s body. “It’s you inside, I know, but it feels… _off_. Like you’re far away. I miss you, the whole you. I miss your touch.” He sighed, looking at the ground. “I miss you, Dean.”

Dean put his head in the crook of [Y/N]’s neck and gave little rubs, finally resting his head heavily, eyes closed. “I’m here, sweetie pie. But I know. I miss you too.”  
[Y/N] put his arms around Dean and laid his cheek on his head. “Damn you’re soft, though.”  
Dean made little huffs. He was laughing. Sadness tainted [Y/N]’s faint smile.

 

**7\. Enquiring**

[Y/N] and Dean stepped out of the bathroom. Sam looked up. “Hey, I found more info on Hatley.”  
“Oh? Interesting info… this time?” [Y/N] looked at Dean and giggled. Dean made laughy huffs and headed to the bed, on which he lied down like a sphinx. [Y/N] sat on the corner of the bed, rested a hand on a paw. Dean gave a tiny lick.  
Sam sighed. “Very funny.” He raised his eyebrows. “It turns out, Hatley has a wife.”  
“Ohhh! What a turn of events!” More giggles and huffs.  
Sam sat back. “Really?”  
“Sorry,” said [Y/N]. “Go on. Mrs Hatley.”  
“According to what I found, she owns the plant where Hatley is chair. She doesn’t sit on the committee – her husband does, but she owns the plant. Also, she owns about a third of the real estate that is in her husband’s name.”  
“That doesn’t make sense. It’s in _his_ name.”  
“She’s listed as co-owner on quite a few properties.”  
“Oh. Right. So… Are you saying she’s got more money than him? Is the plant worth more than his real estate share?”  
“Yes.”  
“OK. So we have Hatley. He is the less fortunate of the two. Murders have been perpetrated on his property. Were they his buildings only, or shared ownership ones?”  
“Um…” Sam looked something up. “Ah! He is the sole owner. Hmm…”  
“Maybe she’s got something to do with this.”  
“But what? She’s richer than him.”  
“Power?”  
“What power? She owns the workforce and part of the town. I’d say she’s powerful already.”  
[Y/N] looked aimlessly at various spots on the carpet, lost in thought. Sam read up on his tablet.  
“Then there’s only one thing left,” [Y/N] said. Dean and Sam looked at him, waiting for him to continue. “He cheated on her.”  
“Hm, could be.”  
“If it’s not money, if it’s not power, it’s sex. Or love. Either he cheated on her, or he wants a divorce or something. Either way, she’s unhappy with him and wants revenge.”  
“Could be,” Sam said as he turned his tablet off. “Alright. That gives us some direction for tomorrow. Now I guess we should question them both. Which one first?”  
[Y/N] folded his arms. “You know what? I think we do them at the same time, so they don’t know we’re also talking to the other when we see them. You do her, I do him. Maybe you could charm her into giving you info. Who knows?”  
Sam got up. “That’s a bit twisted.”  
“Thank you.”

 

**8\. Investigating**

After a relatively good night’s sleep – [Y/N] cuddled against Dean, who was sleeping on top of the covers – Sam went to get some breakfast. He came back with a bit more than usual.  
“That’s a big bag,” [Y/N] commented. Dean perked up. He hopped down and got closer. “What you got?”  
“That place got breakfast wraps and sandwiches. I got a few sausage-only wraps for Dean. And since he’s…” he looked over at the panther, “pretty big, I got 4 just for him. I hope it’s enough.”  
“Probably not,” Dean said, “but I’ll take it.” He licked his nose.  
The food was distributed and eaten in silence – in Dean’s case, wolfed down pretty fast.  
FBI suits were donned, and they left a “Don’t disturb” on the door. Nobody wants to deal with a maid walking in on a panther.

Sam was driving. He pulled in the police station’s parking lot.  
“And why are we here?”, [Y/N] asked.  
“Cause we always hit the cops first…” Sam said, like it was standard procedure.  
“Plus, they might tell us where to find Mr. and Mrs Hatley if they’re not at the plant. I figure she wouldn’t be, since she doesn’t sit on the committee, so I wonder where we’d find her.”  
“I don’t know… home?”  
“And if she’s not?”  
“What, the police doesn’t keep tabs on every civilian.”  
“With all their real estate and them owning the plant, I’m pretty sure both the Hatleys know the police and vice-versa. So there might be something. Or something to learn about the vampire killings. Something.”  
“Alright, then. Let’s do that.”

In the station, they were directed to a certain Wilson. After pleasantries and showing badges, Sam took the floor.  
“So, you’re the one working on the multiple murders case.”  
“Yes. I’m surprised the FBI got here that fast.”  
“Oh, we didn’t only get here, we got the murderer.”  
“What, you caught him?”  
“Right as he was about to strike again. So you can add that to your file and tell your people.”  
“I’m… wow. Seriously?”  
[Y/N] interjected. “Sir, are you questioning the FBI’s efficiency?”  
“No! No, no, no… It’s just… It’s like you came in and saved the day. The FBI never does that. Well, they didn’t last time.”  
Sam and [Y/N] frowned, and Sam went, “Last time?”  
“Yes. We had 3 murders on our hands within the same week, one in town and 2 on the outskirts. Never got solved. Never got any help either. Super weird case.”  
“When was that?”  
“Um, about 10 years ago?”  
Sam and [Y/N] glanced at each other in surprise.  
Sam turned to Wilson. “Do you have the reports?”  
“Yes, I’ll get them for you.”

Wilson left the room. Sam and [Y/N] turned to each other.  
[Y/N] whispered, “Oh my god, 10 years? A demon? What the hell?”  
“That could be a completely different thing, though.”  
[Y/N] looked at Sam with raised eyebrows, arms open in disbelief.  
“No,” Sam said, “of course not. Those things always end up related.” Sam sighed. [Y/N] sighed.  
“Plus, how come you didn’t find this case? I thought you could find everything and hack in any records.”  
“But did I check. There was nothing.”

Wilson came back with a slim file. “I made you a copy. We didn’t have much, so here you are.”  
Sam took the file, gave it to [Y/N], who started reading while Sam continued. “Thanks a lot. Could you tell me, why wasn’t this case in the system?”  
“What? It’s in the system. Everything always goes in the system. It’s procedure.” He got around his desk, sat and checked on his computer. “See, right – wait.” He typed some more. He sat back, looked at Sam in surprise. “It’s not here. I don’t get it.” He paused, staring at his screen. “I swear, I remember reviewing the file in the system. I even remember, there was one – “  
Sam cut him. “Hey, it’s alright, we have a physical file, we have something we can work with, it’s OK.”  
Wilson couldn’t believe what he just heard. “What, the FBI… will let this slide?”  
[Y/N] took this one. “No, sir, the FBI will not let this… slide, as you say. You will get the file re-entered in the system. We will need it to be there when we fill the form to close the case.” Sam darted a look at [Y/N].  
Wilson seemed to fall back in familiar territory. “Oh, right. Yes, right on it, sir.”

While [Y/N] leafed through the file, Sam got to what they had come in for.  
“Before we leave, we have to ask you if you know where we could find Mr. and Mrs Hatley.”  
“From Hatley Corp.?”  
“Yes.”  
Wilson was visibly taken aback by this request. “Um, Mr. Hatley is usually at the plant. He’s the boss there.”  
“We know that.”  
“Oh, OK. And Mrs Hatley… I guess she’s home? I know she’ll be at the charity dinner tonight for our Vets. She organized the whole thing. So I guess at the moment she’s home?” He looked at the clock. 9:40. “Still pretty early. I guess she’s home. Want me to call?”  
“No, it’s fine. And where would that charity event take place?”  
“The Community Center. We had it built for events like this, ceremonies and various activities. It’s pretty big.”  
“Thanks, Wilson,” Sam said, extending his hand, “we’ll be on ou-”

[Y/N] cut Sam. “Wait. Wilson, why do you say this case was weird? And why do you say they’re murders? All I see here are animal attacks. Even the photos are quite clear.” Sam leaned over to see while Wilson answered. The pictures showed bodies with clear lacerations, so many the victim quickly bled to death from the wounds. There were also bite marks on the necks. Sam and [Y/N] looked at each other, recognizing the type of wounds. But they wanted to hear it from Wilson.  
“Because of the animal. The coroner found all three victims were attacked by a large cat. Now, cats will tackle their preys with their paws to bring them down but then they’ll break their necks. This particular breed of cat here actually crushes the skull of its preys with its fangs. But cats never shred them like this and leave them. Plus, the victims were found far enough from each other that the cat needed a faster mode of transport than just running. To me, that’s weird enough to call it murder.”  
[Y/N] cut in. “Maybe it wasn’t the same – “  
But Wilson waved a finger. “No, no. They’re all from the same animal. All the marks were measured and they matched.”  
[Y/N] flipped a few pages. “Ah, found it. ‘…indicate a single adult black jaguar.’” His eyes went up to Wilson. “Black jaguar?”  
“Yeah, or, a panther.”

Back in the car, Sam took his tablet out.  
“Whatcha looking up?”  
“Black jaguar distribution. I’m pretty sure they’re not endemic to Kansas.”  
“But you knew that when you saw Dean. You told me.”  
“Yeah and I do confirm. They’re not.”  
Sam turned his tablet off and set it down on the seat. Both Sam and [Y/N] had their eyes fixed on nothing in particular on the dash. Sam blinked. “So that means…”  
“Yeah. That means it’s really Dean. Well, not Dean, but the same cat.”  
“Shit.”  
“Yeah.”  
Sam took a deep breath. He started the car. “Did they find any big cat owner? Does the file say?”  
“It specifies they didn’t find any. They checked.”  
“Let’s go and ask the Hatleys if they like cats, then.”

Sam had dropped [Y/N] at the plant before heading to the Hatley’s domicile.  
Mrs Hatley answered the door. “Yes?” She was clearly ready for her day ahead, dressed in a tailored long skirt and coat, hair neatly up in an elaborate braid at the nape of her neck. She presented a look between classic and modern.  
“Sorry to disturb you at such an early hour,” Sam said, while showing his badge, “I am agent Ridgeley, I would like to ask you a few questions. It’s regarding the recent macabre events in town.”  
Mrs Hatley looked at him a moment, brows furrowed. “Your name again?”  
“Agent Ridgeley.” Sam suddenly remembered, he should be a bit charming, because, like [Y/N] said, who knows? So he relaxed his composure and made a warm smile, looking Mrs Hatley in the eyes.  
Mrs Hatley made a little smile. She gestured to him. “Do come in, agent Ridgeley.”

The house was huge. From the front, it didn’t seem so big, but, once inside, one realized the house was build to be long. They walked the hallway. Sam noticed an old wedding picture on a side table – Mr. and Mrs Hatley, surely. He didn’t have time to look at it closely, for Mrs Hatley was taking him past the living room, a staircase, and the kitchen. She picked up a mug and lead Sam out to the patio. The backyard was neatly maintained, much like an English garden. On a table, a coffee pot was resting on a heat plate, with 2 mugs – both empty – sugar, milk, and the morning paper, neatly folded.  
“Would you like some coffee, agent?”  
“Yes, thank you. Very kind of you.”  
“Please do sit. We can’t take long, for I have to be at the Community Center as soon as possible – I’m hosting an event for our veterans tonight and there is so much to do – but let’s make the little time we have as comfortable as possible. Sugar? Milk? It’s almond milk.”  
“Just a splash, please. Thanks.”  
“My pleasure. Here.” She handed him his cup and sat down. “So, what is it you need to ask me?”  
Sam flipped his notepad open. “We noticed that the, um, events took place in buildings owned by your husband.”  
“Indeed. It is very bad for business. The tenants of those buildings want to be compensated for the trauma, or so they say. Actually, one argues the place is unsafe and wants us to lower the rent.”  
“’Us’? Aren’t those buildings your husband’s?”  
“Oh, sorry. Force of habit. My husband owns a number of buildings, but there are quite a few we co-own. I manage all the buildings.”  
“But you own the plant.”  
“Yes, but he manages it. See, we’ve learned early on each of us had specific strengths. So we invest our money and let the best of us bring the endeavour to fruition.”  
Sam raised an eyebrow in approval and looked around, nodding. “It seems you’ve found the right formula and your endeavours are, indeed, fruitful.”  
“Why thank you.”  
“I suppose Mr. Hatley spends a lot of time outside the home, though.”  
“It’s not that bad. I’m pretty busy myself, you know. And we manage to spend our nights and most of our weekends together, and book nice vacations in the south in the winter. I dare say, I think we found the formula to a fruitful marriage as well.” She laughed a little, and Sam smiled.  
“So, any children?”  
Her smile faded, but she didn’t seem to mind the question. “No, unfortunately.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think –“  
“Oh, it’s alright.”  
“So… who is going to inherit everything?” And Sam realized how gloomy this was, so he added, “You know, a long time from now, in the future?” He attempted a smile.  
She laughed. “Of course. Well, it’s all going back to the community.”  
“How so?”  
“The apartment buildings will all become co-ops – managed by the tenants – and the plant will be given to the employees through shares.”  
“There must be someone who’s not happy with this.”  
“Sure, like always. But it’s what we have planned. It’s all on paper already, all the legal aspects have been addressed. So whatever happens, it’s all locked anyway.”  
“I mean, what I’m looking for, here, is someone who could be your enemy, or want to do you harm. You or your… endeavours.”  
“Oh!! Good question.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “To be honest, I can’t see who. I’m very sorry.”  
“Someone on the plant’s committee maybe?”  
“No… Shares will be divided to keep the company running as is. Everyone will keep their current jobs.”  
Sam wrote a few things down. Mrs Hatley looked at her watch and gasped. “My! Agent Ridgeley, I’m so sorry, but I really must go.”  
“Oh! I’m sorry. Of course.”  
Mrs Hatley and Sam got up. She led him along the hallway.

Once at the front door, Sam remembered the cat thing. “Just before we leave, I have one last question.”  
“Yes, but please do make it quick.”  
“Between you and Mr. Hatley, you must know a lot of people.”  
“Oh, almost everyone in town!”  
“Do you know of anyone who is fond of, or would own a big wild cat? Or has owned one in the past?”  
Mrs Hatley looked like her brain had stopped working. “A …what?”  
“Big wild cat. A black jaguar, to be exact.”  
She stared at Sam a moment. “A black jaguar.”  
“Yes, a panther, if you will. A big one, too.”  
“But… aren’t those things dangerous?”  
“Very.”  
“Was it a panther that killed all those poor people?”  
“I am not at liberty to discuss the details of the case, I’m sorry. But the murders have been stopped. We found the guilty party and proceeded. So, do you –“  
Mrs Hatley blinked rapidly. “You caught them?”  
“Yes. There is nothing to fear, now. All is back to normal.”  
She stared at Sam, and let out a sigh. “Oh thanks. That’s good news.” She blinked, remembered his question. “And no, I… I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone who would have a panther. Not in our apartment buildings, that’s for sure. Nor anyone else. That’s the kind of thing we’d know. I think.”  
“Probably. Someone owning such a cat would probably be proud of it.”  
“I suppose. And no, I don’t know anyone who has or had a panther.”  
Sam wrote something down and put his notepad back in his pocket. “Thank you, Mrs Hatley. Sorry for the inconvenience. You’ve been very helpful.”  
“Oh. You’re welcome.”  
“Here’s my card if something comes up. Anything.”  
“Ah. Thank you.”  
Sam gave a nod and a smile, and left.

Sam picked up [Y/N] at the plant.  
“So, how was it?”  
“For one thing, he’s in love with his wife, so the whole cheating slash jealousy slash revenge thing is out the window.”  
“Yeah, I got that feeling too. And for the panther, I got nothing.”  
“Me neither. The very question seemed to scare him.”  
“Mrs Hatley was quite shaken too. She thought the panther had killed her tenants.”  
“…’her tenants’? Aren’t the buildings his?”  
Sam explained the couple’s arrangements and their plans for their legacy. “What did you talk about?”  
“Oh, plant and business stuff. He talks like everyone is happy. It’s eerie.”  
“Maybe they are.”  
[Y/N] turned to Sam and said flatly, “We have 3 murders 10 years ago and 4 this week. Woop-tee-doo, I’m dancing with joy.”  
Sam pursed his lips. “I know.”

Sam and [Y/N] stopped to get some lunch and make a detour by the grocery store to get Dean a big piece of actual raw meat.  
“You know, I’m used to Dean and his burgers,” Sam said, looking at the beef roast [Y/N] had in his hands, “but this is something else. It’s weird to think it’s Dean who is going to eat this.”  
“Probably in one sitting, too.” He weighed the package in his hands. “Which is impressive.”  
“I think we’ll have to look up a bit more on black jaguars to see what he needs. We can’t feed him a roast that big every meal.”  
[Y/N] felt like he needed to protect Dean. “You should know, cats are obligate carnivores.”  
Sam just sighed. “Yeah, I know that. But it’s a lot of food, even for a big cat.”  
[Y/N] pouted. “But he’s going to be so happy.” He lifted the roast to accentuate his statement.  
Sam shook his head.

Back at the motel, Dean was indeed happy about the meat. He chewed on it his eyes half-closed, licking his mouth and nose between each bite. Once he seemed more disposed to listening to Sam and [Y/N], they brought him up to speed on their investigations.

They gathered to throw ideas around.

A vampire was never a loner, but it was decided they wouldn’t go after its nest. Too time consuming, and the probability of the remaining vampires cooperating too low.

Going back to where Dean had been taken, try to find the witches and have them put Dean back seemed to lack some crucial info. Why did the witches switch Dean and the black jaguar in the first place? They would need to know more before they barge in. Of course, Dean favoured the barging in option, taking the witches prisoner and force them to switch him back. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t drive the car. So he was left to follow suit. Dean was not a happy kitty.

Sam turned his tablet on, trying to see if he could find something about a missing black jaguar or panther in the classifieds or anywhere, really.

 

**9\. Knowing**

Sam was still looking up classifieds on his tablet. [Y/N]’s phone rang, he put it on speaker. “Agent Michael speaking.”  
“Um, hi. This is Mr. Hatley from this morning.” He seemed stressed.  
Sam and [Y/N] exchanged glances. [Y/N]’s tone was relaxed. “Yes, Mr. Hatley. Do you have something new for me?”  
“Yes. I think we need to talk. Where can I meet you?”  
[Y/N] gave him the address of the motel.

There was a faint knock at the door. Dean hid in the bathroom, sitting by the door, able to see and hear but not be seen, while [Y/N] opened. “Mr. Hatley, please come in.”  
Hatley thanked him and walked in. As [Y/N] closed the door behind him, Mr. Hatley froze in place, looking at Sam.  
Sam frowned. “What’s wrong?”  
Hatley blinked and looked to the ground. He looked back at [Y/N]. “I didn’t know you had… You’re…”  
[Y/N] tried to fill in. “He’s my partner, yes.”  
Hatley turned to Sam. “Agent…?”  
“Ridgeley.”  
Hatley seemed surprised.  
“I know, it’s not a common name.” He glared subtly at [Y/N], who had a smirk on his face. “Please, sir, have a seat. Coffee?”  
Hatley sat. “Um, no, thanks.”  
[Y/N] sat by Sam, facing Hatley. Hatley’s leg was restless. His shoulders gave little jolts. He fumbled with his tie.  
[Y/N] tried to make him comfortable. “It’s alright, you can talk to us.”  
Sam added, “Even if you think it might be a bit… strange.”  
Hatley turned to Sam, suddenly still and calm. He looked Sam in the eye. “I _know_.”  
Sam and [Y/N] looked at each other, than Sam slowly turned to Hatley. “What do you mean, _you know_?”  
Hatley flattened his tie, sat up, a resigned look in his eye. “Look. I came here to see if I could trick agent Michael here in telling me more about what he knows on the case and tell him the panther is in fact mine, so when he’d find it he’d tell me so I could collect it.”  
Sam and [Y/N] sat back, eyes wide. [Y/N] spoke up. “Wait. The panther is yours?”  
“Kind of. Yes. I mean… No, it’s not. It’s complicated.”  
Sam’s brows were furrowed. He squinted. “But you said, ‘I know.’ You know… who the black jaguar belongs to? I’m lost here.”  
Hatley sighed loudly. “No. Yes, but it’s not that. I know you’re not agent Ridgeley. You’re Sam Winchester.”

Sam and [Y/N] almost fell off their chairs. They echoed, “What?”  
“We know who you are, Mr. Winchester. We’ve been informed. We’ve seen a picture of you and your brother. We don’t know who he is,” he pointed his chin at [Y/N], “but we know who you are and what you do. So yeah, I _know_ I can tell you about strange stuff. I came to try to get the panther back. Which, by the way, we have no idea how you know about, because, as we all know, the murders in my blocks were carried out by a vampire. Which you took out. That almost went according to plan, but we’re missing a panther, so it’s a damn mess now. So fuck it. I really hope you can help us.”  
Sam and [Y/N] stared at Hatley, mouths opened. Sam was the first to shake the surprise off. “Who _informed_ you of who we are? What do you mean, we can help you?”  
[Y/N] added, “Yeah, and about the panther, too. Is it yours or is it not?” He instinctively looked towards the bathroom. Dean had opened the door a little and was watching through the crack. You could only see one eye, and it was fixing intensely the back of Hatley’s head.  
Hatley took a deep breath, looked at Sam. “The demon told us about you guys. That’s who.”

Sam leaned over the table, resting on his arms. “The demon?”  
Hatley folded his hands in his lap. “Yes. He wanted Dean on a silver plate, so he showed us your pictures and explained you were hunters. Getting Dean would be very hard, he said. But it was the price to pay, so we hired some witches – “  
“Wait wait wait.” Sam put a hand up. “The price to pay for what? Usually, demons demand the dealer’s soul. Not other humans’. Plus, they can’t collect a soul without a contract. Dean has no contract.”  
“Though you gotta admit, Dean is worth a lot for demons,” [Y/N] said, “so I guess they still try.”  
Hatley cut in. “Yeah, that’s what the demon said. He said he could collect Dean if he wanted to. We wondered why he didn’t get him himself, but he said something about his body being guarded or something.”  
Sam looked at [Y/N]. “Ah, the tattoo.” [Y/N] nodded.  
“What?” Hatley was the one confused now.  
Sam and [Y/N] undid a few buttons of their shirts and pulled at their collars. Sam explained. “It’s a warding against demon possession.”  
Hatley was impressed. “I should have gotten something like that.”  
“Well it depends,” Sam explained, “if you think you need to be guarded against demon possession. Do you?”  
“No, actually, no.” Hatley lowered his head. “It’s hellhounds I’m worried about.”  
[Y/N] raised his eyebrows. “Ahhh… So that’s where you think we could help you.”  
“Hopefully.”  
“Boy, hellhounds… That’s a hard one. When are you due?”  
“Tonight, midnight.”  
[Y/N] looked at Sam. “That should explain the other murders. 10 years… the cat…”  
Hatley just looked at [Y/N] under his eyebrows.  
Sam crossed his arms. “Better start from the top, then. We’ll need to know everything.”

And Hatley explained. 30 years ago, they started investing their money, but things dragged on and didn’t really go well. They met with a financial advisor who gave them tips for investing and it’s been doing great from that point on.  
“Let me guess,” [Y/N] said, “it’s been doing _really_ great, but your luck ran out exactly 10 years later.”  
“Yes. The way he worded his advice, he’d gotten us to sell him our souls. We just didn’t believe it until we heard the hellhounds coming.”  
“And how did you get out of that one? Nobody ever gets out of that. No civilian, at least.”  
“I killed it.”  
Sam and [Y/N] gasped. Sam spoke. “What? How?”  
“A very lucky accident. I was in the kitchen for a late snack. I heard the hellhound and grabbed my biggest knife. I ran, and tried to hide, but of course it didn’t work. When it came for me, I just defended myself and got it.”  
“Wow.”  
“Yeah. My wife couldn’t believe it either. We were in shock. But the next moment the demon was in our kitchen, and he was furious. Long story short, we bargained with it. The new deal was we had to kill the hunters in the area and he’d grant us 10 more years.”  
[Y/N] nodded. “Voilà! We got our 3 murders solved.”  
“Yeah. How d’you know about that? We had the data erased from the system.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Well, unfortunately for you, someone remembered the case at the station. And still had a paper copy of the file. He was very happy we’d solved the current case, he hoped we could help with that old one.”  
“Shit.”  
Sam smiled and nodded.  
[Y/N] perked up. “But wait. The hunters were killed by the panther, weren’t they? The very same panther you’re looking for.”  
“Oh, so that’s where you learned about the panther.”  
Sam made a half-smile and returned to his neutral expression just as fast.  
Hatley thought about it. “Yes, it’s the same panther. At least, I think.”  
[Y/N] pressed on. “Don’t just think. Talk.”  
Hatley took a deep breath. “Well, as it turns out, we have witches in town…”  
[Y/N] said, under his breath, “It’s a fucking freak show, this place.” Sam glared at her, but talked to Hatley. “Sorry. Carry on.”  
“Yeah, I agree with him. We didn’t know about the witches, but they’d picked up on the demon and hellhound activity, and when they realized we were still alive, they showed up on our doorstep. Now, we had witches in our house asking us how we’d gotten out of the demon deal – we quickly learned that it was very valuable information – and meanwhile we had the hunter-killing problem. We had 3 days to carry out the murders. The least I could say was, we were quite overwhelmed. My wife tried to find ways to not kill the hunters, just fake it. The witches explained we couldn’t do that.”  
“And the panther in all this?” [Y/N]’s patience was running out.  
“Yes, this is where it comes into play. We… well, I made a deal with the witches. I asked them for help with the hunters murders in exchange for the information they wanted. They’re the ones who did it. Kill them, I mean. They had a panther and used it. They swapped the panther’s soul with one of the witches and got the hunters that way.”  
[Y/N] was thinking out loud. “They must have done more than just unleash the panther. Hunters are usually good enough to get out of a panther attack. I mean, we fight vampires, werewolves, wendigos…”  
Hatley’s eyes were wide. “Werewolves? And… what is a wendigo?” He looked at [Y/N], then Sam, who opened his mouth to answer, but Hatley cut him. “No. I shouldn’t be surprised. And… Wendigos, I don’t want to know.”  
Sam sat back. “Oh you really don’t.”  
Hatley continued. “Yeah, I guess the witches used some magic, too. Makes sense, right? They got the hunters really fast, like, in the same night. But when I told them we got out of the demon deal out of luck, they were not happy.”  
“I can’t wait to see how you got out of that one,” [Y/N] muttered.  
“With a lot of money,” Hatley said, flatly.  
“Like witches can’t get a lot of money by themselves,” [Y/N] said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  
“Well not _a lot of legal money_ all at once,” Hatley answered, on the same tone.  
Both Sam and [Y/N] went “Oh.”

“So that was 10 years ago,” [Y/N] said, “and your problem got solved. For another 10 years. Which brings us to today. Well… this week.”  
“Indeed,” Hatley said with a sigh, “but this time, the demon showed up without his hellhound. He’s the one who came to us with an offer.”  
“Let me guess,” Sam said, “he wanted Dean.”  
“Yes. In exchange for another 10 years.”  
[Y/N] looked at Sam. He frowned, and turned to Hatley. “Only Dean? They usually want both Sam and Dean.”  
“Well they know you boys,” Hatley said, looking at Sam. “They know if we get one, the other will go looking for him. All we needed to do was to get you where we wanted.”  
“But we didn’t go to where Dean was taken.”  
“Because that’s not where the witches wanted you. They said they’d rather deal with you separately, cause if you were in the same room, they’d probably all end up dead.”  
[Y/N] smiled proudly and looked at Sam. “It’s fair.”  
“So they put a spell on a vampire to do our bidding, and we arranged for some murders to catch your attention.”  
[Y/N]’s smile quickly turned into an air of disgust. “You say that so matter-of-factly I’m going to be sick.”  
Hatley pursed his lips and sighed. “But we lost the panther. The witches were supposed to be waiting for you when you go get the vampire and deal with you. But they were busy looking for the panther, so they missed you.”  
“Wow, we’re lucky this organization is sloppy,” said [Y/N].  
Sam added, “And it’s interesting how they can locate a demon and a hellhound, but not a panther.”  
“They’d hidden it magically from you guys. And their spell backfired on them, they couldn’t locate it.”  
[Y/N]’s expression brightened. He looked at Sam. “Now, _that’s_ hilarious.”

But just as fast, he got serious and squinted at Hatley. “Now, all I see is that you want us to get you out of your demon deal and avoid going to hell. But you can’t give us Dean.”  
“I can tell you where his body is and introduce you to the witches, maybe you can work something out.”  
“Do give the address.” he did and [Y/N] wrote it down. “But you seriously don’t think this is enough. We need Dean, not just his body.”  
Hatley started fidgeting. “You really can’t help me? Maybe you could talk to the demon?”  
“And say what?”  
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re the pros, aren’t you? Maybe you can get us out of this.”  
Sam sighed. Of course, he wasn’t about to let a human be dragged to hell, whatever he may have done. Even murder. Even premeditated, cold-blooded murder. Humans were humans.  
“Look. We’ll help you,” he said.  
“Oh thanks! Thank you thank you thank you! …how?”  
“We’ll trap and kill the demon.”  
“You can do that?”  
“Yes. And then, we’ll work from there to sort out the rest.”  
“I have one last question,” [Y/N] said, “What about your wife? Is she going to cooperate?”  
“She’ll cooperate if it means getting out of the whole deal. She’s stuck with me in this because of the original demon deal, but she didn’t agree to the hunters murders and she didn’t approve of the vampire killings either.”  
“Oh because you do?”  
“Someone has to carry the guilt.”

Sam got up. “Alright. You’re supposed to deliver Dean to the demon tonight, right?”  
“Right.”  
“I suppose, at the address where his body is – and where his soul, trapped in the black jaguar, was supposed to be.”  
“Right.”  
“OK. We leave right now. Call Mrs Hatley, we’re picking her up.”  
“What?”  
“You’re coming with us.”  
“Why?”  
“Cause we need to protect you. We can’t do that if you’re here.”  
“But isn’t it more dangerous to get us close to the demon?”  
[Y/N] winked. “Don’t worry. _We’re the pros_.”

Sam started gathering their belongings. [Y/N] turned and nodded at Dean to come out. He opened the door with his paw and gracefully trotted into the room.  
Hatley gave a start. “AH! You have the panther?!”  
Dean sat in front of Hatley, who tried to back up in his chair. Sam and [Y/N] looked at the scene, amused. “Why didn’t you say you had the panther?”  
Sam straigtened up. “Need-to-know basis. And we’re the ones who need to know. You, on the other hand, need to stay alive. So you need to listen. To us.” Sam gave him a sideways look, waiting for him to answer. Hatley only nodded, keeping his eyes on the panther.  
“Oh,” [Y/N] added, “and it’s not ‘the panther’. It’s Dean.” Dean slowly blinked at Hatley. Hatley nodded.

 

**10\. Preparing**

They picked up Mrs Hatley and headed to the bunker, the Hatleys in the backseat with Sam. Mr. Hatley brought his wife up to speed on everything the best he could. After the initial shock of seeing Sam and [Y/N] had the panther – um, Dean – she was mostly relieved and grateful for the help getting rid of the demon problem. She assured Sam and [Y/N] that they never wanted to sell their souls in the first place and she’d been doing every good deed she could think of all those years in the hopes it would erase the deal and get her a place in heaven instead.  
“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works,” Sam explained, “a deal is a deal. And one with a demon is, to our knowledge, pretty much unbreakable. Unless you kill the demon.”  
“And you know how to do that,” Mrs Hatley enquired.  
[Y/N] looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Yes, we do. It’s the plan.”  
“I guess there’s a reason the demon wanted you.”  
“Oh you bet there is. A lot of reasons.”

Back at the bunker, they ate, and Sam checked something on the computer. “Ha. It was hard to pinpoint, but I see why the demon wanted the hunters dead.”  
“Don’t they all do? Want hunters dead? As a general rule?” Mr. Hatley asked.  
“Not necessarily. Hunters hunt a lot of things, and demons are really not easy to find – and, we’re the only ones I know who can kill them. So demons are not too bothered with hunters in general.”  
“Except you and your brother.”  
“Yeah. So,” he pointed at the screen, “get this. After you killed the hunters, demon deals went up in the area. I’ve found a few people who had good, very good fortune and died exactly 10 years after.”  
“There are not that many rich people in town. What do you mean?”  
“Good fortune can be a number of things, including this couple here who’d tried to get pregnant for a long time and finally had a baby. You cross the obits with the classifieds or news articles 10 years back on the same date and you start seeing correlations.”  
“My, that’s… grim.”  
“My guess is those hunters knew how to get rid of demons. Because there is virtually nothing that fits the pattern for a very long time before the hunters died.”

[Y/N] cleaned up after everyone was done eating. “So, those witches. Do tell. Cause we’re about to head out and meet up with them.”  
There wasn’t much to tell, to Sam and [Y/N]’s disappointment. Three women in their thirties. Or so they said. The Hatleys didn’t know if they’d be any helpful, because they seemed happy to help getting the demon’s deed done. That’s what got them rich and what would get them richer this time again. And if they lost the deal with the Hatleys, they just might turn around and cut a deal with the demon instead.  
“That’s why we’re killing the demon,” [Y/N] said.

[Y/N] laid out a plan. “OK. So we go to the address you gave me. Then… um… We stall until the demon gets there. We kill the demon. Then, the Hatleys offer a load of money to the witches so they put Dean back in his body. How’s that?”  
“I’m not sure,” said Sam. “They’re already paying them to carry out the demon’s demands. It will make the witches very nervous to see us try and kill the demon.”  
“OK,” [Y/N] continued, “Then the Hatleys give them the money upfront for their word they’re not going to hurt Dean, then the same amount after Dean is safe and sound.”  
“HEY!” Mr. Hatley protested.  
[Y/N] raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry? You’d rather rot in hell? Cause, you should know, you’re just postponing the inevitable with your deals.”  
“No, you’re right.”  
“That’s what I thought.”  
Sam was pensive. “Yeah, that might work.”  
Mrs Hatley was visibly nervous. “You’re really taking us with you to the witches’ place?”  
Sam took his phone out. “No. The bunker is more secure, so you’ll stay here. I’ll record your offer to the witches to show them.”

 

**11\. Saving**

The trio was back on the road in the Impala, with, again, Sam in the back and Dean by [Y/N] in the front.  
[Y/N] glanced at Dean. “How are you doing? Sorry for all the human conversations, but we needed to get to the bottom of this.” “It’s fine,” Dean said, “I had time to… lick _myself_.” Sam and [Y/N] made a disgusted sound. Dean laughed.

The place they were sent to was, of course, a house along a dirt road outside of a town. It was quite hidden in the forest, but it was in good shape. It was already dark and the porch light shone dimly down on the stairs. “Why do we always get to the places in the middle of nowhere?” [Y/N] reflected, as he parked the car beside an old Toyota. Sam craned his neck to take it all in. “The upside is if we have to fight, we won’t have to deal with neighbours or the police”, adding, “especially since we have a black jaguar with us.” Dean made a “what-he-said” head nod towards Sam. [Y/N] turned to look at Sam. “If we have to fight? _IF_?” Dean made a “what-he-said” head nod towards him.

They got some things from the trunk and headed to the door. As [Y/N] and Sam were wondering whether they should knock, ring or just barge in, Dean’s ears perked up and he suddenly looked around, moving his ears to catch some sound. [Y/N] whispered, “I didn’t hear anything.” Sam just looked at him, shrugging. They all looked around.

Without any warning sign, Dean took off. He was in the forest in an instant – you wouldn’t have heard him run, but only remembered the sound of the leaves after he’d passed, your brain mesmerized by the sheer force it took the massive cat to reach such speed so quickly and smoothly. Sam and [Y/N] didn’t really have time to realize what had happened when they heard some rustling of leaves, a muffled human sound, a branch snap, then nothing. Sam and [Y/N] tried to see in the dark in the general direction Dean had gone. “Dean!” Sam called in a loud whisper. “Dean!”

“He’s right here,” said a woman’s voice from the forest, at normal volume. “No need to call. Oh, and thanks for the delivery.” They heard leaves rustling, branches snapping, the sounds fading as she obviously was walking away from them.  
“HEY! Get back here!” [Y/N] called.  
“I’m not that stupid, dear, so no!” the voice answered from farther.  
Sam jumped in. “But we have an offer from the Hatleys! We came to talk!”  
The rustling stopped. The voice came from right in front of them, a few paces from the stairs. “Sam, you have a machete. And you, whoever you are, you have a gun, probably loaded with something you invented that could hurt us. And you got more things hidden in your pockets.” They could see her in the shadow. She was fairly tall, of strong build, wearing normal jeans and a red hoodie. She had long blonde hair. [Y/N] had raised his gun, aiming at her, but the witch merely took the information in and turned back to Sam. “So, no, Sam. I’m not stupid. Congrats on trying to save the Hatleys, but this thing has to go down. And, need I remind you, we already have a deal with them.” [Y/N] aimed at the witch’s leg and shot. The sound of the gunshot resonated in the forest as the figure in front of them vanished in a wisp of smoke. “Damn astral projections.” [Y/N] was furious he’d lost a bullet for that.

Sam and [Y/N] strained their ears to try to hear something, anything. But the forest had fallen silent again. Sam took his lockpicking kit out of his pocket. The best solution: barge in, but silently. [Y/N] protested, in a barely audible whisper. “What’s the point? She went into the forest! And Dean told us he had escaped from a kind of shack, not a proper house.” Sam was firm. “But this is the address the demon is going to come to. We can set traps for the demon. He’ll come after us anyway.” “Are you nuts? He’ll come after us after he’s done with Dean!” “We. Need. Clues. And this is the right address for the deal,” Sam said, as he pursed his lips and proceeded with the lockpick. He added, “unless you have a way of going in the forest silently.” He looked at his watch. “And it’s only 10:30. We have a little time still before the demon gets here.”

They got in the house, got their flashlights on. It was a very normal house, clean and uncluttered. It felt like breaking and entering into a house where the occupants were sleeping. There was nothing special on the main floor so they went downstairs. The basement was simple and bare.

They were about to give up on finding clues in the house when they heard a kind of breathing in a corner. Whipping their flashlights around, they only saw a big, low wooden casket. They looked at each other and listened again. Yes. Breathing, coming from inside the casket. Sam got by the lid, unlatched the lock, ready to open, [Y/N] in position to shoot should anything jump out. Sam lifted the lid.  
[Y/N] covered his mouth as he screamed. “DEAN!”  
Sam just as soon put a hand in front of him to stop him from running towards the casket. “It’s not Dean! It’s not Dean! It’s his body.”  
[Y/N]’s eyes went from Dean’s body to Sam and back again. He let his hand down as he spoke. “I know… my god… we have his body… That means it’s the panther inside. Is he tied up in some way?”  
Sam looked. “Yes. His hands are tied. His feet too.”  
They both looked at Dean’s sleeping body in silence, taking in the damages. Most of the exposed skin was either bruised or scratched. There was a fair amount of caked blood yet some wounds seemed fresh. [Y/N] couldn’t help but step closer. “My god, his hands…”

Sam was more used to urgency than [Y/N]. “Look, he’s sound asleep. This is probably the best way still to contain him,” he said, as he closed and latched the lid, as [Y/N] looked at him in confused horror. “If we put him in the car, he’ll trash about, break the windows, and hurt himself more.”  
“We can tie him down with the seatbelts.”  
Sam seemed to think it was a good idea but decided against it. “We need demon traps and salt the windows. We need to protect the body from the demon coming in and taking him.”  
[Y/N] looked at Sam blankly. “The witches can come in and take him elsewhere.”  
“Well at least we won’t have to deal with the demon and the witches at the same time.” Sam took his paint spray can out. “Come on. While he’s still sleeping.”  
He took his spray can out slowly, thinking. “But why don’t we draw a trap on the pavement and park the car in it with the body in it?”  
Sam took a deep, impatient breath. “Because it would be too obvious. If we keep the body here and demon-proof the house, it gives us an advantage.”  
[Y/N] looked up at Sam, a sad look in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I have not hunted for long, I’m not used to the fine details of…” He gestured vaguely.  
Sam softened. “It’s alright. It was a good idea, but we need stealth. Come on.”

After they’d done the demon-proofing, they checked on Dean’s body again. [Y/N] had taken some decorative cushions from the couch upstairs and fitted them around him, hoping the panther won’t hurt Dean’s body too much if it wakes up.

“Oh, I see you’ve found the body.” Sam and [Y/N] whipped their head around at the voice, their flashlights on the witch. “No need for that.” She flicked the switch and the lights came on. It was the same witch as outside earlier. “Nice salting of the windows by the way. I suppose there are demon traps all over the place. Thanks for the vandalism. I’ll send you the cleaning bill.”  
Sam was confused. “This is… your house?”  
“Yes. Why? Had you known, you wouldn’t have spray-painted my hardwood floors?”  
Sam was still confused. “What? No… I mean…”  
“That’s what I thought.” She gestured to them. “Step aside.”  
“No, wait,” Sam said, “I told you we can do this differently. Let me explain.”  
The witch looked at the sheathed machete. “Yes, of course.” She raised an eyebrow. “I said, step aside.”  
Sam put a hand up. “Please, please, hear us out.”  
The witch took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Look, Sam Winchester,” she said ‘Winchester’ like it was a vile, putrid word, “you Winchester boys and us witches, we are enemies. I have no intention in making a deal with you and certainly no intention in saving your brother. It’s a good deal for us. On all fronts.” She looked him in the eye. “Now. Step. Aside.”  
Neither Sam nor [Y/N] moved.  
“Look, from the bulge in your coat pockets, I know you have brought something to protect yourselves against magic. But I am not above physical violence.” She took out a gun. She saw [Y/N] raise his. “Ah, yes. So you do have bullets that can hurt me. So it’s true.”  
“Yes, it’s true. Witch-killing bullets.”

The witch sighed and lowered her gun. “Alright. You do have the advantage here. Talk, but talk fast. My sisters will be worried if I’m not back with the body soon. So you have little time before they come and, believe me, us three together? Your little charms won’t hold.” A flash of panic went through Sam and [Y/N].

Sam showed the witch the video from the Hatleys. “Not good enough,” she said, as Sam was putting his phone back in his pocket. “What?” said Sam, in surprise. “Look,” the witch explained, “you’re an intelligent man – otherwise, we wouldn’t have so much trouble with you Winchesters – so understand this. The Hatleys are stupid. They got themselves in trouble and they’re paying us very big money to help them meet the demon’s demands. So we plan on cashing in every 10 years. The deal they offer here is final. We prefer long-term partnerships. Plus, bonus, you Winchesters will finally be out of the picture.” She smiled, confident, proud, and her eyes became unfocused, savouring the future.

“What you fail to see,” [Y/N] interjected, “is that after the demon has delivered Dean and Sam to hell, he’ll have no use for the Hatleys. He’ll collect their souls next time their number comes up. So this deal here? It’s double what you would have should you carry out the initial plan.”

The conversation was cut short by the noise of people entering the house and running downstairs. Two women appeared, out of breath. They were of similar build and attire as the blonde one, but they had light brown hair. They stopped short at the bottom of the stairs, looking at Sam and [Y/N].

Sam and [Y/N] knew their time was up. Sam put his hands in the air and [Y/N] put his gun back in his belt and did the same. Sam broke the silence. “Hi… um… We were just talking.”

The blonde witch turned to her twin sisters. “They have witch-killing bullets. I agreed to listen.” She turned to Sam and [Y/N]. “You wait here. We’ll be back. And don’t try to escape. We took care of the exits.” She went upstairs and out with her sisters.

The witches came back after a while. The blonde talked. “OK, Sam Winchester. As much as I hate to see you boys live, we’ve decided the new deal is better.” Sam and [Y/N] let out a relieved sigh. “But,” she continued, “you get to deal with the demon first. And alone. We’re not getting our hands dirty. If you survive the demon, fine. Otherwise, we go back to the original plan.” Sam let out an annoyed sigh. “You’re not going to help? At all?” The three sisters shook their heads. The blonde one added, “The demon will be here shortly. He will be coming to the shack in the back, where we keep the actual Dean.”

At that moment, they heard bumping and muffled screaming from the casket. The blonde witch nodded to her sisters, who went and took care of it. They opened the casket, said some incantation, and closed it. The room was quiet again. [Y/N] asked, a tone of sadness in his voice, “Does he wake up often like this?” The blonde witch answered, “Every 3 to 4 hours. Spells don’t take hold as well on hybrids. The body can be put to sleep, but the incantation doesn’t work as well on the soul if it’s not its body. So it fights back and we have to redo the spell every so often.”

******

Dean opened his eyes. The charm had worn off. Again in a cage. Dammit! He saw the other cage, empty. Dammit! He leaned against the sides of his cage. Hmmm… seems more solid than last time. He sniffed the air. The human presences had not been gone long. He had time, but surely only little time. And so he started slamming against the cage, not caring for the pain. At any rate, this wasn’t his body. He didn’t care if he broke it beyond repair.

******

The witch gestured to her sisters. “Come on, let’s bring the body to the shack.” She turned to Sam and [Y/N]. “You, follow us. We’ll leave you with Dean and his body, and the demon. We’ll wait in the house.”  
[Y/N] protested, “What, you’ll leave all of Dean within the demon’s reach? What kind of deal is this?” “And here I thought you were good hunters. Well, good luck. Come on, now.”

******

Dean heard, in the distance, a patio door opening and closing. He gave a last blow to the cage and assessed the damages. The cage was looser. Maybe with a blow or two, it would give. His shoulders hurt badly but he didn’t care. He might even have a broken rib, but he didn’t care. He found a way to hide the blood on the floor as he laid down to fake sleeping.

“No need, Dean. I know you’re awake,” said a male voice. Dean managed to stay still. The voice said, “Doesn’t matter. Let me introduce myself. My name is Brentley, demon, and I’m here to collect you.” Dean opened an eye and saw the demon looking around. “Where is your body? I need both parts. You know,” and he looked at Dean, “to ensure you don’t come back this time.” Dean stayed lying down, trying to look pitiful in the cage. “I know I’m a little early – I said I’d be here at midnight – but seriously, where is the rest? Your body, the witches, the Hatleys…” Anthony put his hands in his pockets, turned to Dean. “Ah, doesn’t matter! Tonight, I get souls. If it’s not yours, it’ll be the Hatleys’. Today’s a good day for business.” He took one hand out and patted the air beside him. Dean heard a low growl. His eyes widened and he backed up in a flash, cowering against the cage. Oh, fuck.

The door opened. “Ah!”, said Brentley. In came the twins with Dean’s body levitating between them. “Finally!”, said Brentley. The twins stopped in surprise, but continued into the shack. Then Sam and [Y/N] came in. “What??”, said Brentley. The blonde witch answered him, as she came in, “We found them at the house. Stupid Winchesters, always with their noses in other people’s business. Couldn’t leave them there, so we brought them.” Brentley pointed at [Y/N]. “He’s a Winchester?” The blonde witch answered, “Don’t know, don’t care.” “Me neither, quite frankly,” Brentley said, as he gestured circles in the air. “Tie them up!”

In the commotion of handling [Y/N] to tie him up – he was not giving in – Dean caught Sam’s eye. He warned him, “there’s a hellhound by the demon’s side.” But Sam looked confused. Dean repeated. Sam looked a bit panicked. Shit, the spell had worn off. Dean changed tactics. He made a head nod in the witches’ direction, trying to ask Sam if the deal with the Hatleys had gone down. Sam nodded and tapped his phone in his pocket to tell Dean he’d shown them the video. Somehow the brothers understood each other. Dean then looked around and understood what he had to do. And fast.

He stepped back and slammed against the cage, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and stare at him. The cage hadn’t given. He went at it again, and the cage broke, with Dean rolling awkwardly on the floor. He got up, stood to his full height, then, bracing himself, he bent his head down, flattened his ears, closed his eyes until their were slits, focusing on the demon, looking him in the eye, bared his fangs and growled.

But Brentley was not having it. He patted the air beside him. “Get him girl!”  
That’s exactly what Dean wanted. Everyone looked horrified – Sam even more so, knowing full well what a hellhound is – as Dean fell to the ground under the most vicious yet invisible creature from hell. Sam took out his machete in the hopes of helping Dean, but the fight was moving too fast. Dog and cat growls tore through the night, and Dean suddenly flew this way and that, and started bleeding from a paw, his neck, his side. One could see his skin being stretched and torn and yet Dean, with the agility his panther body provided him, and his resilience, and his lack of care for pain and broken bones, sent black spurts of blood everywhere. He scratched at the air, bounced away, pounced back, bit the air. More black blood spurted, until Dean seemed to get his paws around something – the hellhound’s neck? – pin the invisible creature down, and tear at it once more. A pool of black blood is all that could be seen. Dean stepped back and looked the demon in the eye again, growling.

Brentley was visibly in shock. And angry. He was looking at his dead hellhound and grinding his teeth as he looked at Dean. Sam looked at the twins holding [Y/N]. The twins and [Y/N] showed Sam [Y/N] was not tied up. Sam mouthed “water” to [Y/N], who lightened up. He reached for the bottle in his jacket and, before the demon had time to form his next thought, splashed him. As the demon was screaming and writhing in pain, the witches nodded at each other. They chanted fast and the blonde witch, with her finger pointing to the ground, etched a demon trap in the floor. Dean bounced around the demon and pushed him inside.

Brentley regained his composure and saw the trap. “Ah, fuck! Really?” He looked at the witches. “What the hell is going on?” The blonde one answered, “The Hatleys gave us a better deal. You’re out.” She nodded at Sam. Sam took out his demon knife – but had a moment of hesitation, knowing that if he stepped into the demon trap, the demon would take him. Dean caught Sam’s hesitation and jumped the demon from behind, pinning him face down to the ground. Sam understood Dean’s intention the moment he moved a muscle, so he was on the demon the instant he hit the ground and stabbed him, sending yellow sparks about.

12\. Homecoming

The Hatleys had transferred all the promised money and were told they could go home.

The witches made Sam promise to not go after them. Sam made them promise to not kill anyone. Dean was put back into his own body, only to find it in pretty bad shape. Not as much as he had left the panther’s, but he was very bruised and bloody. His hands hurt a lot. But… he didn’t care. He’d had much worse.

On the ride back to the bunker, Sam was driving. Dean and [Y/N] were in the back, silent, numb, leaning on each other. “I think it’s my first real big big hunt with an actual big dangerous fight. I’m more spent than I thought I’d be. I didn’t even do much,” said [Y/N], half to himself. Sam looked at him in the rearview mirror, “It’s normal. It’s the nerves. With more hunts you’ll be able to understand situations better, and it’ll be easier.” “You don’t get nervous anymore?” “No, I still do. Danger is danger. But it’s different.” Dean joined in the conversation. “It’s like anything else. It takes practice. When you know what to do, it’s different. The stress comes from the execution of the task, not from trying to choose what to do. You’ll get there.” He looked at [Y/N] and had a tired, yet fond smile.

The rest of the ride home was quiet. Dean had dozed off on [Y/N]’s shoulder. [Y/N] was relaxing, the low rumble of the Impala almost putting him to sleep. The street lights were coming at regular intervals. He gave the softest kiss on Dean’s cheek. Dean didn’t wake up.

Back at the bunker, everyone sleepily shuffled to their room, wishing each other goodnight. By then, it must have been 1 a.m.

But Dean was too wounded and bloodied to go straight to bed. [Y/N] took their bathrobes from the bedroom, and brought a chair in the bathroom. “Strip, babe, I’m gonna help you clean up.” Dean didn’t say a word, he simply slowly and painfully took his clothes off, starting with his shirts. [Y/N] helped him with his boots. Dean finally sat there in his undies, slouched a bit. [Y/N] slowly and gently cleaned off the blood, slowing down when Dean winced. “Are you bruised… everywhere?” “It feels like it. But I don’t think so.” “I’m sorry babe.” “It’s alright. It feels good, what you’re doing.” His tired green eyes slowly blinked as he smiled softly. He sat up and reached for a kiss.

After cleaning Dean up from the blood, they both hopped in the shower. Dean’s shoulders were hurting quite a bit, so [Y/N] helped him wash his hair. As Dean stood tall and moved his head to rinse, it hit [Y/N]. Dean had been a panther for a few days. He’d missed him. And now he’s here, all of him. They won the fight. He didn’t lose him. It overwhelmed him. He wrapped his arms around Dean, his face against his chest, water running down their bodies. Dean leaned down a bit to rest his cheek against his forehead and wrapped his arms around him. “It’s alright, sweetie, I’m here,” he said. [Y/N] looked up at Dean. He couldn’t help but get lost in his green eyes. He got on his tippy toes and kissed him gently. Dean leaned down and pressed his lips harder. Soon they were kissing hard and strong, their tongues searching and finding each other.

“Ouch!” Dean winced. [Y/N] stepped back. “Oh I’m sorry babe… what did I do?” “Nothing… It’s my ribs… I think one or two might be badly bruised. And…” He moved his shoulders and winced. “Anyway. Don’t worry. Come back here. You make me forget the pain.” “Actually, I think we should move our… activities to bed. You’re bruised enough as it is.” “Good call,” he laughed lightly, “shower sex is complicated enough as it is, no need to make it worse.”

They got out of the shower, [Y/N] put a few bandages on Dean’s wounds, and they went to their bedroom. They slipped into the sheets naked and cuddled close. They laid there, [Y/N] on his left side, his nose smooched against Dean’s jaw, Dean on his back, his free arm loosely reaching to touch [Y/N]’s arm. They stayed quiet for a moment, the little lamp on the bedside table still on. Their eyes were closed, their breathing slow.

[Y/N] took a deeper breath. “Mmm… Are you still up for it or are you too comfy?” He felt Dean’s jaw muscles move – he was smiling. Dean took [Y/N]’s hand in his and said in a low voice, “That kiss in the shower… I missed those.” “Mmm…” A few moments passed again. Dean tried to reach around [Y/N]’s back to pull him closer. He groaned in pain. “Sweetie, seriously, I… I can’t. Give me a day or two. That panther fucked me up good.” [Y/N] propped himself on an elbow and looked down at Dean, who blinked slowly, pain and sleep taking him slowly over. “Yup. You look like shit.” Dean laughed. And winced. He took a deep breath. “Yeah. And I feel like it too.” [Y/N] took a moment to get lost in Dean’s green eyes. “I’m just happy to have you back, babe.” And he kissed him, a sweet, soft, lingering kiss. He looked at him again a moment, reached to turn off the little lamp, and cuddled back into place close to him. Soon, in each other’s arms, their breathing slowed and they fell asleep.


End file.
